The Devils Plaything
by Bonenzone
Summary: Night is always the hardest for the lonely, but it was getting easier. And it was all because of her. Bonenzo, M rating starts in chapter 4.
1. Chapter 1

**I've never written for TVD before so I'm not exactly sure what to say. No established TL just yet but it will be a multi-chapter story.**

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There are few sadder sights than a bar at 10pm on a Tuesday night. The remaining patrons scattered sparsely across the open space, sharing a silent solidarity in their self-imposed isolation. It's is no place for someone with a family eagerly awaiting them at home, or an early morning commute. Any sort of stability. No, this wasteland of dark-stained wood and soiled carpet was for the wanders; drifters who had no anchor to tie them to something more in life. It was where they sat, the translucent amber liquid in their glasses as their only company, trapped in an endless loop of nothing but their own thoughts. The liquor adding a hue of grey to the darkest of them.

Enzo knew this darkness all too well, having lived multiple lifetimes within it. He had to be cautious not to dwell too much or it became an ocean that he struggled to keep his head above. His preference was to wade somewhere around the present. It was almost a relief to have his most recent failure in love to contemplate. It was a paper cut in a body full of bullet holes. Lily had been a temporary light in the inky black depths, but he was coming around to the idea that he fell for that light rather than the actual person. The convincing opinion of a friend he'd been listening to for the last few evenings.

 _"Repetition is key," she said in her most patronising tone_. _"Also, it's borderline Oedipal... I mean, come on."_

He smiled at the memory, finishing the last warm mouthful of his drink and looking at the clock on the wall. It was now 10:17pm and he had been there since 7pm, but he would stay. It wasn't like he had anything waiting for him other than an empty bed and more of his own miserable company.

Their unspoken arrangement had somehow transitioned from one night of wallowing to a regular support group, party of 2. They had never actually agreed to meet one another and yet for the last 4 nights they had both turned up, drawn to this bleak venue, seeking solace at the bottom of a bottle and a familiar face.

He tried to shake off the voice in his head that told him she had had enough of him these last few nights and decided he wasn't worth another. He wasn't doing very well. If idle hands were the devils plaything, then an idle mind was far worse. Another half hour and three empty glasses had pulled him back into those hopeless thoughts and he was replaying all the reasons a girl like her had to stay away from someone like him. Lily had seen it; maybe Bonnie was just a little slower? She did have that annoying way about her of looking for the good in people. Maybe she had finally cottoned on that he was a fraud.

Pulling himself out of his pity-party momentarily he noticed a familiar scent had entered the bar and his mood lifted along with it. The darkness that had crept up on him slunk back to wherever it came from. The alcohol no longer felt repetitive; rather it warmed him from within. His patience had been rewarded and he scolded himself for his typical decent into despondency. Ordering another round from his compliant and compelled bartender friend, he walked with two glasses in hand to the table he knew she'd be sitting at.

Sitting beside her - a chair between them - he slid over her drink. They said hello in silence with a sip taken in unison. Enzo set his glass down as Bonnie continued, taking half of hers in one go. He could see the defeat in her posture and he knew this day had not been a good one. Feeling the need to lift her spirits he did so in the only way he knew how.

"Like a moth to the flame," he smirked, "you just couldn't stay away."

She glared at him and he smiled innocently at her before ordering another round. The sadness in her face lifted, and a small smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

"That smirk of yours, I swear…" She trailed off, shaking her head. He winked at her and she rolled her eyes, smiling larger than she intended.

The bartender interrupted them with two half-filled glasses, setting them down in front of Enzo and she swiftly dragged them across to her side of the table.

"Uh uh - these are both mine. You've had a head start."

His hands in the air in fake surrender, he settled back and watched her drink the second double almost as quickly as the first. Their recent conversations had revealed her to be a girl young of age but with lifetimes worth of sorrow that she carried with her. Every attempt to live the normal life of a college student thwarted by some supernatural cause or need to save the world. Not that the world deserved her many sacrifices, or even knew about them.

He was hesitant to give her any insight into his own tragic backstory, treading carefully as if he was in the presence of a startled deer, only to find Damon had filled in most of the gaps during their recent stint in dimensional purgatory. Still, it surprised him the way she seemed genuinely interested, often asking multiple follow up questions and not baulking at some of his more brazen indiscretions.

He asked her about it once and she had answered that there was a time Damon Salvatore disgusted her more than any other person on this earth, but her best friend had fallen in love with him and she knew that meant there had to be some good in there. She was right, he had saved her life in the former prison they shared and it taught her that good and bad was not the 2-dimensional construct she once thought it was.

The conversation had been casual and spoken after more than a few drinks, but he had held on to the sentiment, almost clinging to it, for the last few days. There was something in the idea that if one of the most inherently, almost sickeningly good, people he knew saw past some regrettable actions made in moments of passion by those thought previously irredeemable, then there was hope for a monster such as himself. And he never forgot to remember that she had to see him as a monster.

As she took a sip from her third glass he decided to step in. A drunk Bonnie, as entertaining as she could be, also meant that their night would be cut short and he didn't want that to happen.

"Alright, love. This isn't a competition. How about we get some food into you?"

She glared at him again, then, as if the gesture itself had made the alcohol go to her head, she slouched back in her seat in defeat.

"The chaperone thing doesn't go with your 'bad boy' aesthetic," she replied, "...but I am a little hungry. Do you want to go to that place near my...place?"

Her brow furrowed. She looked as if she was trying to re-word that sentence over in her head, and had failed. Already a little embarrassed, he couldn't resist as he leaned into her, lowering his face inches from her own and whispered,

" _Are you asking me out?"_

She groaned and rolled her eyes again, pushing him away with her hand on his chest. He had felt the heat coming off of her face and he revelled in it. Making Bonnie Bennett blush was one of his current favourite activities.

"I mean, _I'm flattered_..." he continued.

"Shut up," she replied, passing him the remainder of her drink, "and finish this."

He did as instructed, before she had a chance to change her mind. She put her hand to her head and said, "I need to remember I don't have the same vamp tolerance that you and Damon do for this stuff."

He called out to the bartender, "A water please, mate. For the lightweight here."

He turned back to see her unimpressed expression then placed his hand to his heart and with nothing but feigned concern in his voice he added, "We wouldn't want a repeat of the other night now, would we?"

Now he could really feel the heat coming off of her. On the very first of these drinking sessions Bonnie had lectured him repeatedly over his poor choice of recent infatuation to which he responded by buying her drinks for a brief reprieve. It resulted in a somewhat barbaric exit, Bonnie slung over his shoulder, wearing his jacket around her waist in an act of modesty as to not reveal anything under her barely there skirt.

He carried her a block away before she kindly signalled to him that she was awake by throwing up down his back. She was mortified whenever he brought it up, which only prompted him to do it frequently.

The hazy memory alone was enough to have her finish her glass of water, then stand up promptly to leave. He followed closely behind, smile firmly in place.

"Food, yeah?" she said, not making eye contact with him.

As they walked, she looked as if she was going to say something several times before pulling back.

"Spit it out," he finally said.

"How are you doing?" she asked with a genuine concern that made him feel bad about embarrassing her before.

He paused for a moment. They were both still holding back from one another. Hiding behind feigned distain and empty flirtation. The protective habit of people who have lost too much. He decided to answer honestly for once.

"Things are a little dark, love. But they'll be alright. I've been through worse, but it has been a good lesson."

"Lesson?" she repeated, slowing her pace and moving closer to him.

"Yes, a good lesson. You should always keep your heart closed. It's much easier to protect that way."

He smiled at her and noticed she looked upset, so he stopped and put both hands on her shoulders turning her to face him.

"I didn't mean you. You're young, you're powerful and you're beautiful. The world is yours! You should be out there making mistakes and not giving a damn."

She pulled away from him and stared walking faster. He recalled a conversation recently in which she had confided that she didn't think she could have a relationship with a normal boy her age. She couldn't ever see herself attached to someone mortal again, someone she would have to worry about every second of the day or lie to regularly. Like her father.

He felt the shame of his realisation on his skin. Of course he had managed to say the wrong thing to the one person that had the potential to be a real friend.

He picked up his pace and returned to her side but said she no longer wanted to eat. She added that she also wanted to walk the rest of the way alone. He didn't leave her, however. He fell back, giving her some space, but as someone who had seen too many beautiful girls fates walking home alone in the darkest hours of the night, there was no way he was going to leave. They walked the remainder of the way in silence as they pulled up outside of her place. She barely looked at him for a second before turning to walk away.

"Good night," he shouted, his voice giving away his annoyance. He had upset her, yes, he understood that, but not to this degree, surely? She walked up the steps before turning and storming back in his direction.

"Are you serious?!" she scolded him. "Are you actually serious that that is the 'lesson' you've taken away from all of this? What is the point of us even speaking if you haven't listened to a single word I've said to you over the last few nights?!"

He was taken aback, "Now, hang on here..."

"No," she cut him off, "you are an amazing person, Enzo. You have all this love inside of you, lifetimes of it, just waiting to share it with the right person. Yeah, this time you looked in the wrong place, but you can't just shut that off! There is someone out there who deserves that amount of love and you keeping it to yourself is completely selfish."

"I see the short walk hasn't done much to sober you u..."

"I'm done," she threw he hands in the air, "I'm done!" And with that she headed into her room.

Enzo stood outside unsure of exactly what had happened. It would take a while to process it. All he knew for now was the one thing that had given him a reason to leave his bed these last few days had just turned her back on him and it had actually hurt him. Confused and desperate, he pulled out his phone and started typing:

To: Little Witch

Msg: Don't give up on me just yet.

Msg: Please.

Msg: See you tomorrow night?

Sent.

No reply. He stood there, looking up at her window and willing her to reply. 15 minutes passed before his phone vibrated in his hand.

From: Little Witch

Msg: You're infuriating.

Msg: Of course. See you then.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thanks for the lovely reviews. I'm trying to get back into a writing style so bare with me. Also noticing there isn't much in the way of Bonenzo out there, hey? I hope that changes soon. This pairing needs more love.**

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A couple of weeks had now passed since their informal arrangement had found itself some structure. Both participants unwilling to admit that they had grown past the point of casual acquaintances, and had formed a need to be near the other. The two non-consecutive nights they had been apart made the following days dull, missing their recently added lustre, and yet they both seemed content to refuse pursuing any alternatives.

Their nights, however, were no longer solely of alcohol and melancholy - although the change to the former was due to Bonnie worrying that she would end up an alcoholic if she tried to keep up with Enzo. They had also found a new venue. A bar within walking distance from her campus, yet far enough away that it was regularly quite empty. The decor probably contributed, peeling wallpaper and a kitschy mix of both 70's and 80's memorabilia strewn across the walls in no particular pattern. The best part? It closed at 10pm, Monday to Thursday, which allowed Enzo to compel the staff into leaving him the job of locking up.

Their new private sanctuary had afforded them hours of time together, turning the darkest part of the night into the brightest. Bonnie had confided early on that while she missed a lot of things in her life, not having her best friend to talk to was something she was struggling with. It was the time alone with Damon that made her really appreciate him, and the days he would let her vent a week's worth of frustration at a time. Matt was often volatile now and Caroline, well she had her own problems coming to terms with being a vampiric incubator. And this is where Enzo came in.

He was a good listener; he could admit that after years of practice. Damon, for all his faults, was also good company when he wasn't pining over someone. His support had made a lasting impression on Bonnie, who would often reference him with an appreciation in her eyes that would cause a pang of jealousy in Enzo he would brush off as quickly as it came on. He had done his own time with Damon but Bonnie - she was a vast improvement on former company. What started as an accompaniment to his loneliness had turned from a friendship to a need. He was starting to become addicted to her.

Sadly, he knew that he'd have to start distancing himself soon as to avoid the attachment meaning more to him than it did to her. Decades of physical and emotional torture had convinced him that the ideal of happiness, of love, were nothing more than marketing ploys. A construct sold to the masses through well written poetry and emotionally manipulative TV ad's at Christmas time. It was in his best interest to pull away just before he was proved right, yet again, leaving whatever trace of hope he was clinging onto intact. But not yet, not tonight. Tonight he would indulge and they would forget everything waiting for them beyond these four walls with flirtatious banter and biting retorts. He'd hold on to this until just before his breaking point, because what man could willingly let Bonnie Bennett go for anything less?

She was perched on a stool in front of him, as he poured one scotch and a tall glass of sparkling mineral water with a twist of lime. He threw a small towel over his shoulder and passed her the water, before picking up his own glass and tapping it against hers. They both took a sip and she smiled at him as she set her drink down.

"You should consider this for your next career move."

He grinned. "You think? I _could_ see myself making a life behind here. Leaving at the end of the night with a few cheeky shots in my stomach and a woman of questionable morals on my arm." He leaned in closer and lowered his voice, "My shift finishes in an hour, if you're interested?"

"Wait, "she narrowed her eyes, "are you calling me a woman with questionable morals?"

"You've been spending your free time with the local riff-raff of late; I dare say that warrants the accusation, love."

"Touché," she replied, tilting her glass in agreement.

Drinks in hand, they moved to the pool table. Darts had initially been their sport of choice but it took far more energy for him to miss than with pool. She was also pretty good, and when she won she would make this excited squeal at the back of her throat that he almost lived for now. He lost a small piece of his heart to her each time she did it.

"What do you say we make this interesting?" she asked, pulling a cue from the wall and over-chalking the end on the small blue square hanging from the table.

"Go on," he replied, while collecting his own cue.

"For every turn we win, that player gets to ask the other a question, and it has to be answered with complete honesty," He looked at her blankly so she added," 'Truth or Dare' but without the dare."

The corners of his mouth lifted. The clever minx had an agenda and he was intrigued.

"I've never been one to back down from a challenge."

His distinct advantage meant he would be in control for the majority of the game. Still, he figured it was in his best interest to encourage her to sink as many balls in a single turn as possible.

Out of nothing but the kindness of his heart he always let her break. The reward for his chivalrous act was the view as he stood behind her and appreciated her 'form' leaning forward to make her shot. She knew just what to arch to get his attention too, and he would often tell her that he was far too distracted to play after she completed her turn. Today he tried - and failed - to watch how many balls she had taken in her break, but a count of the table said she had managed to sink around 3.

"I'll play stripes...perv," she teased.

He noted that stripes had the most balls on the table.

Before taking her next shot she removed her long sleeved jacket to reveal a loose fitting grey tank top. Thinking nothing of it, he was caught off guard as she intentionally over-reached to make an easy shot, revealing that at that angle it exposed a bright magenta bra. He could see her trying to catch his reaction in her peripheral and he started to shake his head, smirking.

"Now how am I supposed to concentrate?"

"You'll manage," she grinned, satisfied with her performance.

She took her second shot, aiming for the single ball rather than the easy multi-ball shot on the other side. It went in and she walked around the table slowly, teasing him as she mulled over which question to start with. He could tell that she knew exactly what she was going to ask, but he appreciated the performance.

"Okay, here it is - what did you see in Lily that made you attracted to her?"

"Pass," he answered, flatly.

" _'Never one to back down from a challenge'_ , huh? Man up and answer the question."

He ground his teeth, trying to make his face as expressionless as possible.

"I've told you already, she had a way of making me feel like I was wanted. And when you spend most of your immortal life not being anyone's second thought, it can mean more to you than it should. That's it."

She nodded her head in acknowledgement of his answer, but still seemed to want more.

"So, it wasn't anything physical?" she pressed.

"When you've lived as long as I have you learn that physical appearance is a minor factor."

She seemed satisfied, but also like she hadn't expected the answer. When she deliberately missed her shot he knew she was changing her strategy. He stepped up, and considered sinking the 8 ball, but there was a delicate question of his own that he had wanted to ask for a while. The game hadn't worked its way there just yet so he tanked, taking down two of his balls and one of hers. She looked annoyed as she watched her ball dissapear off the table

"Sink one of mine and you lose your turn."

He smiled in quiet surrender.

She managed to make another single shot, then stood quietly on the other side of the table, watching him like a cat eyeing an unsuspecting bird.

"So, if it wasn't physical, then it had to be something pretty deep. Which means it's going to take you a while to get over, correct?"

He was regretting not sinking that 8 ball.

"No, it hasn't, because I _am_ over it. You seem to think this is my first taste of rejection."

"I just want to know that if you were to keep an open mind, going forward, that you wouldn't be on the rebound, that you'd be looking…for…something. A new start. For you. That you'd be open to happiness, for yourself. No one else."

Her face twisted in annoyance at her rambling but she composed herself to hear his answer.

"There really is nothing to get over. Once a lone vamp, forever lone vamp. Anyway, I don't have time for romance. My focus is on my bartending career now."

His joke fell flat and she looked frustrated.

"You are a hopeless case," she said with a sigh, before missing her shot.

"It's your turn. Don't sink any more of my balls."

A part of him knew the point she was trying to make, but he still couldn't be sure. It would jeopardise too much to ask outright. He had made a habit out of ruining all of his relationships, and she was not someone he wanted to lose because of a misunderstanding. Instead, he decided to lighten the mood.

"If you were to create a Tinder profile for me, what would it say?"

It seemed to work as she tried to look angry but a smile crept across her lips.

"You can ask me anything, _anything you want_ , and that's what you come up with?"

He moved in front of her, smirk in place, and offered a simple shrug of his shoulders. She laughed and leaned against the table, carefully constructing the blurb in her mind.

"Okay, are you ready?" she cleared her throat, "Annoying, sometimes blunt and always impatient; but don't worry, ladies, it all gets lost in a dreamy British accent and deep brown eyes. Drinks often, makes this annoying smirk even more. A good conversationalist when he's not busy brooding. Preferences – MILF's & Twilight fans."

He laughed a real laugh. One that came from deep in his chest. It was rare for the both of them, and he saw her beaming proudly at her handy work when he eventually stopped. He was genuinely impressed.

"You forgot to mention my chiselled physique, comparable to a marble statue of an ancient deity."

She rolled her eyes, "No, I didn't."

"And here I thought you just wanted me for my body when it was my brilliant mind all along."

"The body is fine; it's the mouth I could do without."

He leaned forward, his lips at her ear, and said in a low voice, "Trust me, love - that's one of the best parts."

She paused briefly, then burst out laughing. They were the only people who could make each other laugh like this at the moment and he took great pride in it when he did. Allowing her to collect herself he poured another round of the same drinks. A second clink of their glasses and he was ready to continue his turn. He made it - of course- and decided it was time to ask the one question he really wanted to know.

"List of all of your bedroom suitors in alphabetical order. Go."

"Pass."

"Okay, fair enough. If you can't handle the game then maybe we should just stop…"

She glared at him and snatched his drink out of his hand, taking a sip.

"Fine. Gilbert, Jeremy."

"Of course," he nodded, " _and…_ "

" _And_ , that's it. List done. Hurry up and finish your turn."

He genuinely wasn't expecting that.

"Wait a minute," he started, his face brow furrowed, "I'm supposed to believe that you've only slept with that oversized puppy-dog?"

"It's what I said, isn't it?" she answered, visibly self-conscious.

"Even when it was just you and Damon in –"

"YES. Even then. Wait, I mean, especially then!"

He settled next to her, eyes fixed on nothing in particular on the table, and took his drink out of her hand before taking a sip. It was petty, but he felt such a strange sense of elation to hear her answer, having wondered due to the high regard she had for Damon seemingly out of nowhere. He also couldn't understand how someone could spend so much time alone with her and not fall in love, or at the very least, lust. He tried to downplay his reaction with the first thing that came into his head.

"So many wasted opportunities," he exclaimed.

She raised an eyebrow.

"Hey, if you want to sleep with Damon, I'm not stopping you."

It was his turn to narrow his eyes at her now, "That's not what I'm saying. I'm saying that you're gorgeous; you should be out enjoying yourself, making mistakes. Lots of them! A whole football team of them if you so desire."

He could see her scowl soften when he told her she was gorgeous, and by the time he had finished speaking she was smiling at his ridiculous statement.

"I cocked that whole thing up, didn't I?" He asked.

She nudged him playfully, then wrinkled her nose as she nodded in agreeance.

"What I would do with that body, though…" he said, realising too late it was out loud, "ah... I mean, if _I_ looked like a fit, fresh-faced young…you know what? Never mind. Your shot."

"Just so we're clear, this whole thing isn't a plan to take possession of my body and sleep with an entire football team, or Damon... right? Because you're sending a lot of mixed signals right now..."

"Yeah yeah, just play your turn."

It wasn't her turn but she took it anyway, probably out of pity for the mess he had got himself into all to find out she hadn't had an intimate relationship with either Salvatore brother, or, surprisingly, any of the other friends in her circle. He realised that Elena's multiple relationships may have lead him to assume her best friend was also more worldly and he now felt more protective of her. The flirtatious and confident woman he had been hanging out with night after night was more inexperienced than he had thought, and he fought a sudden urge to be every romantic hero he had ever read about or watched in a poorly scripted rom-com. Everything he thought she deserved and was saddened to know she had never experienced. And then reality struck and he almost laughed out loud at the idea. It would be a case of the blind leading the blind, where he was concerned. Also, he was supposed to be distancing himself from her, not planning a bombardment of cliche'd grand gestures. He had been derailed, but he was back on track now.

She sunk her last balls in one shot and looked hesitant before asking her next question. He steeled himself, seeing the change in her demeanour. She looked more serious now than she had all night.

"Why is it that when you look at me, you don't look at my actual eyes for very long?"

The question still threw him and her study of him while awaiting his answer wasn't helping.

"Of course I do. I look at your eyes."

"No, you don't. You always drop your eyes to my lips after only a few seconds."

"So? I'm not comfortable with making eye contact. Plenty of people aren't."

He downed the rest of his drink.

"Lie," she accused.

He cleared his throat, playing with the empty glass in his hand. It would be easier for him to pull away if he was honest with her now.

"Your eyes are dangerous."

She walked to him, ducking under one of his outstretched arms, filling the space between him and the table. Mere inches between them, she looked directly into his eyes. He looked down almost instantaneously and she placed a finger under his chin, tilting his head upwards.

"Why?" her silken voice demanded.

"One question, one answer," he fought.

"Then finish the answer."

He was still staring into her eyes, mesmerized as he so often was by the flecks of chartreuse throughout the ripples of olive green.

"Because I've rarely been looked at the way you look at me, and it's ...overwhelming. You look _at_ me."

"And?" she whispered, her eyes dropping to his lips.

" _And_ , I can't ruin this. I won't."

She stood silently, biting her lower lip lightly, as she seemed to shake herself from her previous thoughts. Slipping out from underneath him, she put her cue back on the wall. He felt exposed, and his confession had led to nothing. This was exactly what he had tried to avoid and of course, he had failed.

He put his own coat on, removing all trace of their attendance in under 20 seconds, and they started their short walk to her dorm. It seemed a lot longer in silence but he didn't know what to say to break it. He had never had success with maintaining any relationship in his life and he didn't know how to fix what he had done. Thankfully, she was the one to turn to him as they reached the front of her building.

"Truth?" she asked.

"No more, love. Not tonight."

"I didn't get my 8 ball shot," she argued, "so I'm taking my turn."

Powerless, he stood with his hands firmly in his coat pockets, nodding once for her to continue.

"The night that you took me home, after I drank too much, and you cleaned me up and put me in bed? I remember what I said to you."

"So... what's your question?"

"My question is, why didn't you take me up on my offer?"

He knew exactly what she was referring to, and maybe he had even willed for a repeat a few times in previous conversations. The request was for him to stay the night. While she wasn't sober at all, he knew that she was sincere. Neither of them had mentioned it again.

"Taking advantage of any woman in my care both intoxicated and vulnerable, is frankly, abominable."

"So it was just because you're a gentleman?"

He nodded, "That, and the fact that I didn't want to be just a 'mistake' to you."

She half-smiled in appreciation, moving into him and placing a hand on his chest above his heart.

"Truth?" she asked, looking deep into his eyes in that way that made him feel like he was naked and on display.

"Alright," he nodded again.

"If I was to make that offer tonight, would you take it this time, knowing I'm fully sober and knowing that I'm hoping you'll say yes?"

He wanted to fight it, to tell her it wasn't a good idea. Sex changed everything, for better or for worse, it was from one end of the spectrum to the other with no in-between. Never incremental, it either brought people closer or pushed them away forever. It was such a risk, but she was pressed firmly against him, the heat from her body reaching into his bones, and he felt that this was a different form of torture that he was not prepared for.

She stopped him before he could answer.

"I'm going to go into my empty room. I'm going to take off what I'm wearing now and I'm going to slip into almost nothing at all. Then I'm going to wait for no more than 30 minutes. I'm going to wait for the one man that I've been waiting for ever since the night of Lily's dinner. The one who looks at me like I'm the strongest mortal he's ever known and yet instinctively cuts me off when I've had enough to drink or insists on walking me home, even if it's 2 blocks. The one man who, whenever his eyes fall on my lips, or his hands touch any part of me, makes me hungry in a way I've never felt before. I'm going to wait in my room for him to knock on my door and if he does, then I will willingly invite him in. And if he doesn't, then we will carry on as if nothing ever happened. But let me be very clear here – at no point will this ever be a 'mistake.'"

She cupped his face with her hands and lifted herself to his mouth, placing the lightest kiss on his lips. His eyes remained closed as he felt her walk away, and by the time he was ready to open them again, she was inside.

He had only half an hour to decide his fate.


	3. Chapter 3

The warmth of her lips still on his own, Enzo opened his eyes and stood alone in the cool night air. As if each unacknowledged instance was now illuminated, he thought back to the subtle hints she had made these past few weeks that were no longer so subtle. Rather, they were the missed opportunities of a fool.

His inclination to alternate between flirtation and sarcasm had blurred the lines, though it had never mattered much before. This was particularly confusing though, as half the time they were at each other's throats. He had to admit that they had moved from hostile to playful rather seamlessly of late. He thought about the comment she made while looking for Oscar's car, her advice on how to woo a woman. Was that a hint? Her insistence that he forget about Lily and move on, was this it all calculated or had they just crept up on one another through a kind word and a non-judgmental ear.

If it was calculated, then she must think him a complete and utter moron. Unable to pick up on the simplest of hints until she was forced to take matters into her own hands. He cringed at the thought.

Still, he wasn't entirely sure how he felt. The fact that she had managed to disarm him with her direct, incredibly appealing proposition just moments before was the proof he did not need that he was more than physically attracted to her. There was an occasion when they had split dessert a week earlier and she had moaned after taking her first bite. Ever since then he caught himself occasionally thinking of what it would take for her to moan like that against his skin, her heated breath inches from his ear. Physical attraction had never been a question. It was everything else.

For the first time, there was someone there for him. Someone in his corner. An actual support system that wasn't using him for an end goal, only to ignore him once they'd achieved the outcome they were after. This was actual companionship. When something happened to him, she was the first person he wanted to tell. He'd catch himself shopping, distracted by things "Bonnie would like," or she would mention something - a book she had once loved - and he'd go in search of it the next day. She gave him purpose, not tied to any immediate threat of danger. Just simple and pure.

It was the closeness he had always wanted, and therein lay the complication. Sex. Sex was something he did when he needed information, a distraction, or he was simply bored. It didn't take much to make American women melt, particularly the kind he usually pursued. But it always was empty because that was all he knew. He had never slept with anyone that he had established genuine feelings for, let alone anyone he worried he could hurt. He'd sooner sleep with a stranger and compel them immediately after just to avoid the awkward "breakfast" conversation in the morning. And he had. Multiple times.

But he had always wanted this - the indulgent fantasy of both friendship and the physical combined. The foundation for the ever elusive 'love' he aspired to one-day experience outside the pages of fiction. This was always the unobtainable goal and, he realised, the first real opportunity he had to have it all.

 _26 minutes left._

He found himself outside her bedroom door, eager to knock and see what it revealed. He could hear the rustling of clothes along with her elevated heartbeat. Either the side effect of her take-charge proposal or in anticipation of things to come. Either way, he wanted to know was how much faster it would beat as he softly kissed his way along her jawline, or slowly up her inner thigh.

He moved closer to the door before a thought crossed his mind. What if she was rushing into this? He couldn't just compel her to forget as they woke up together in her small single bed. Not because he was unable to, because he didn't want to. If this was happening, he didn't want to look into her eyes each night and know he'd been that intimate only to have her stare blankly back at him. But then what? Was this a one-time thing, or did she want for them to be a couple? Did _he_ want for them to be a couple? He could just imagine the lectures he'd have to endure from those close to her and the repetitive cries that he would never be good enough, etc, etc.

Maybe she was after a one-night stand. Maybe he was looking too much into it and she was also bored, or looking for a distraction. Maybe that's all he was good for. He certainly wasn't "boyfriend" material, she'd jokingly told him as much in an earlier conversation. It hurt a little back then, but the memory alone was enough to quell his previous enthusiasm now.

He didn't knock on the door. Instead, he went outside and stood across the road under a large tree on the footpath. As much as he hated to admit it, he wanted advice. This wasn't some drunken sorority girl who was easily won over with a story about being related to the royal family. This was someone important to him, and he wanted to speak to someone who had known her longer than he had to gauge some sense of clarity before he potentially made a mistake.

He took his phone out of his pocket and scrolled through the short contact list. Almost every person on it would be anti-Enzo & pro-Bonnie, it was just a matter of picking the right one. It would be a precursor of things to come and a good test of his nerve. He hovered over Stefan's name for a while, then in the hopes of finding potential understanding rather than just a lecture, he chose Damon instead.

 _23 minutes._

To his surprise, Damon answered.

"To what do I owe this unwanted pleasure?" He sounded unimpressed, following his greeting with a sip of something that was probably not water. Enzo honestly hadn't expected him to take his call, he hadn't thought that far ahead.

"Ah, just checking in. How are you and Stefan going with your plan to take down Julian?"

"Oh, I get it. Checking to see if the position for Step-Dad is vacant?"

"Far from it, mate."

"Then what do you want, Enzo? If you hadn't noticed, we're not really in a 'midnight check-in' kind of place."

He cleared his throat, "I have a… question, of sorts."

"What, did you get a girl pregnant or something?" Damon asked, amused, "because that's a thing now, you know."

"No." Enzo started, "My question has to do with Elena."

Silence. Then, after a long pause, "Tread carefully."

"When did you know what kind of relationship she wanted from you, and how did you manage to not cock it all up?"

Damon sounded intrigued, "You're not talking about Lily, are you? You sure do move on fast. Who's the new flavour of the week?"

"Funny. Your answer is...?"

"Alright, I'll play along. Honestly? You have no control over this. It's all her, my friend. You need to give her some room and wait for _her_ to make the first move. It's excruciating at times, but if you want something worth it then you need to let it happen." Another sip of his drink.

"Well, then the hardest part is done from the sounds of it. She's already made the first move."

"Nice," Damon replied, "so are you now going to tell me the name of this clearly blind, possibly deaf, mystery woman?"

"Ha. Ha. Well, I've known her for a while, and we've spent a lot of time together of late -" Damon cut him off.

"Who are you talking about?" he asked, his tone shifting dramatically from indifference to anger.

"It sounds like you already know."

"Who. Are. You. Talking. About?" he repeated, his voice getting louder.

"I think this conversation is over."

"Where are you?!"

"I'm not anywhere of your concern."

"I'm coming over there, I swear to God if you're where I think you are..."

"I'm not, listen, I'm outside, on my own. No need to get all over-protective."

Silence again.

"Damon, I came to you for advice, nothing sinister. Obviously I want to do this the right way."

"Then you need to get yourself away from her right now. Bonnie is not some toy you get to play with and toss aside when you're done. She's been through enough, and you seducing her and messing with her head while she's still in a pretty vulnerable place is low. What is wrong with you?!"

"As per usual you have this wrong. If you'd shut up and bloody listen for minute, I could tell you that – "

But he'd hung up the phone.

He wasn't surprised by what Damon had to say but it also wasn't sitting with him very well. Had he unknowingly seduced her at her most vulnerable, and was he about to take advantage of the situation? Damon was her best friend; he knew her better than most. If he saw it that way, then there was a chance she would too. If not now, maybe eventually. And then everyone else would, too. No one would think the sweet girl they'd all known for so long, the girl that had saved their lives, would pick someone like him without some nefarious outside influence.

He stepped out from under the tree, looking up at the golden light from behind the curtain in her room. The occasional flicker of light, of movement, and his body would flush with warmth. It took all of his willpower as he turned and started walking slowly to where he'd parked his car. Near the bar they had left not long ago, just a few blocks away.

 _19 minutes._

This was for the best. He would return home and try to stop thinking about her, alone in her room, waiting for him. He thought back to her offer and wondered what "wearing almost nothing meant", exactly. The Bonnie Bennett he had first met some time ago would probably be sitting around in a singlet top and short pyjama bottoms. But this Bonnie, she was no girl. The Bonnie that kissed him just lightly enough to give him a taste and then walked away leaving him wanting more - she was a temptress. Would she be in lace, perhaps? Or maybe, satin. Latex? No, he knew her well enough to know she wasn't a latex girl. At least he thought he did. He was questioning everything now.

These thoughts of her weren't helping. He needed to leave and return home to a blood bag and some late night infomercials, and to stop picturing her in the matching briefs of that pink bra she had flashed earlier in the evening. _Temptress_. He wondered if he shouldn't at least text her, tell her that they should call it a night. He also wondered if that wasn't just him stalling to stay nearby. It was, and he did, but just for a minute longer, before taking his phone from his pocket. He wrote several different texts before deleting each one.

 _Thanks for the offer, but no thanks._ Really? Messaging really had a way of removing the emotion from words.

 _We might be moving a little fast, here_. Rich, coming from him. She would think he was rejecting her.

 _I value our friendship too much to –_ Ugh, no.

 _11 minutes_.

He put his phone back in his pocket, giving up for now. He'd send something eventually but he didn't want to misstep and have her retract her offer permanently. He wasn't declining altogether, he just needed to take this slow. Those thoughts were interrupted when he noticed he was no longer alone on the footpath. This was exactly what he didn't need right now. He rolled his eyes and turned around, arms wide in exaggerated surrender.

"I told you, I'm on my own, outside. Nothing untoward happening here, officer."

Damon jabbed him hard, just under his collarbone. "Where is she?"

It forced him to take a step back, defending himself with his hands now in front of his chest, "Steady on, mate. She's in her room."

"What did you do to her?"

"Whoa, hang on now. What makes you think I did anything to her?"

"Because I know you. And because you're what, stalking her now? Why are you out here in the middle of the night? It's creepy."

Enzo was pissed off now. "For your information, I walked her home and refused an offer to join her in her room. One that she initiated!"

Damon's eyes widened in confusion, " _She_ invited you up? Then she must be wasted."

"I can assure you she is sober," taking offense at his accusation, he decided to take it further, "It was also not my first offer."

"That's BS."

"Listen, I called you of all people tonight for advice. You know Bonnie better than most. I want to do this right, clearly, or I sure as hell wouldn't be standing here with _you_ right now."

Damon seemed to calm down a little, taking a step back and relaxing his shoulders so he didn't look like he was about to punch him in the face.

"I knew I should've worried when you two started this little self-help group. Whenever I talk to her now your name comes up more and more."

"It's been nothing more than two friends, sharing stories over a few pints. It was, at least, until tonight."

"So, what is this to you. And choose your words wisely because if you say just sex…"

"Okay, that's enough. I'm done here." Enzo turned to walk back towards his car.

"Wait, stop. I'm honestly trying to get my head around this."

He considered ignoring Damon and walking away but he wanted to know the motivation behind the aggressive line of questioning so he turned back around.

"What are you really worried about, here? Anyone would think you were her jealous ex-boyfriend."

Now it was Damon's turn to be pissed off.

"No, I'm her concerned best friend. I've known both of you for a long time, and frankly, you're not good enough for her."

"You didn't need to come all the way here to tell me that."

"No, you don't understand. Bonnie will do anything for the people she loves, anything. That includes sacrificing her own life, even her sanity. She loves hard, and you've done nothing to earn that."

It hit a sore spot. "And what, you have?"

"I didn't say that. She gave me a chance out of loyalty to Elena, I lucked out. But it's you that's the problem. You can pretend you're untouchable all you like but you also love too hard. Problem is, when you can't handle your emotions, people end up dead. I can't let that happen to her, or to anyone she cares about. I have no idea why she thinks this has a shot in hell."

"Do you want to know why? Because of you. She watched your relationship and found something redeemable in you, so why wouldn't she find that in me?"

Damon stopped now, registering what he'd said.

"All I know is that if you hurt her, or any one of the few people she still has in this world, then I will probably kill you."

"I would never – "

"Sure you wouldn't," he replied, more frustrated than anything else, "Honestly, this is nothing more than a booty call, my friend. Bonbon's had it rough, everyone is so busy with babies, heretics or parental issues, she's just looking for some excitement of her own. She'll come to her senses eventually."

"Maybe so," Enzo replied, "or maybe I'm the only one who has cared enough to actually ask her how she's coping. She's dealing with her own stuff, Damon, but she doesn't get to go on benders and make mistakes like the rest of you, she's got to be the level-headed one, the rock. And how do you repay her? By calling her when you need something, not a check-in and a bit of encouragement. Maybe I can relate to that, and maybe I see her as more than just some supernatural hotline that you only call when you're desperate."

Damon went quiet, it seemed he had no comeback to that. While he was guilty of taking advantage of Bonnie's skillset, he wasn't alone. And Enzo had found himself resenting them more and more for the way they used her and tossed her aside when they were done. She had made him just as over-protective as Damon. Maybe more so.

Turning his back to Enzo, it seemed Damon had given up on the fight. But he made sure to get in the last word on the matter.

"You will hurt her. We always end up hurting them at some point."

With that, he was gone.

 _4 minutes._

As much as their conversation had incensed him, Damon had inadvertently made things clearer for him. He knew his own short-comings, and he had always figured he would need to start completely anew, a stranger in a strange town, for anyone to want him in their life. That he'd have to hide his past and live as a saint to have any chance at a real love. Bonnie knew the worst of him, and she had made her choice. Of all the men she could've chosen, she wanted him, trusted him enough to invite into her bed.

He would make it his mission to prove Damon wrong.

She had all the power here, after all. Who else could make him question everything he knew in this way? Could make him so defensive, feel so protective of her, that he'd take on the world if they came after them. She was Cleopatra, and he with his inflated sense of self, was the foolish and unknowingly subservient Marc Antony.

And he was going to turn his back on her, leaving her alone in her room questioning if she'd been too forward?

He was fooling no one. He was always going to turn back, eyeing his watch carefully for the last 28 minutes. His own self-sabotage wasn't enough for lust that was coursing through his veins, and the thought of her in that room, choosing an outfit with their night in mind, planning exactly what she would do to him and what she wanted him to do to her...

In under a minute he was at her door. There was no hesitation this time, as he knocked on the wood that separated them.

* * *

 **AN: That's enough angst and character development for now. Time for the fun stuff. Also, Happy New Year!**


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: Thank you so much to those who reviewed the last chapter. FF wasn't showing them until just recently so I couldn't reply, but I just wanted to say that I really appreciated the feedback and I'm not just...rude, lol. Enjoy!**

* * *

Bonnie opened the door to her room and stepped out into the hallway. She was dressed in a simple cloth robe, juxtaposed against the obvious effort she had gone to with her hair pulled into an intricate low bun and her eyes lined with a deep, smoky kohl. Both were new additions since they'd parted half an hour earlier and it seemed, even in her humble attire, that she was growing more beautiful every time he saw her.

"So, I had a phone call from Damon," she said, in an agitated whisper.

His heart sunk.

"I thought you might," he sighed.

"Did you call him to gloat, or something? Because he was really worked up, rambling about you and not getting 'seduced by the accent' amongst… other things."

"What 'other things'?"

She dropped her eye contact, "It doesn't matter."

He could only imagine what Damon had said to her, criticizing her poor judgement; assuming she'd been coerced into sleeping with him; questioning if he was taking advantage of her. While Damon thought his points were valid - and his worry for Bonnie came from a good place - it was misguided and it had pissed Enzo off. This was supposed to their moment, and now it was tainted through an unwelcome outside source.

"Do you really think I would call him to gloat, knowing full well that he'd just call you immediately after? Do you think me that foolish?"

She studied him as he replied, her firmly crossed arms falling into a gesture of frustration.

"No, I just don't understand why you would tell him?"

"I didn't call to tell him, exactly. I called for advice."

"Why didn't you just call me?" she asked, still frustrated.

"Probably because it was about you," he answered, matching her tone.

That caught her off guard. She arched a brow, "Me? Go on."

"Rather not."

Her previously frigid stance returned as she tightened her folded arms across her chest again. He relented.

"Okay, okay… I called him to see if you, or I… you _and_ I… I called him to ask how to not mess this up. Whatever _this_ is."

Her face softened, along with her tone.

"And you thought Damon was the best choice?"

"I'm not used to asking for help on these sorts of matters, nor, frankly, am I used to putting this much thought into every little thing. I just do, I don't ask questions! But I can't - not with us."

His answer seemed to work as her scowl left her face, and she fought a smile from her lips.

"We're an 'us', huh?"

He took a step towards her, tilting his head with mere inches between them.

"I hope to be," he declared, surprising himself with his sincerity. There was a weight behind his words that he hadn't felt before, but he knew that this was something he would fight for.

It seemed he'd said the right thing as she took a step back, opening the door fully and inviting him in. As he followed, he noticed she was wearing white pantyhose under her robe. Another addition since their previous meeting. She offered him a drink from the "emergency secret stash" she and Caroline kept and he accepted, taking a seat on the armchair that sat opposite the two single beds in the room.

Her back turned, she called out as she poured, "So I'm guessing you got your own lecture?"

"Better. I got a one-on-one, capped off with the promise of death should I hurt you in any way."

"God, I'm sorry. He gets really worried that if I make any bad decisions he'll have to explain it to Elena and she'll ask him why he didn't do something to stop it earlier, etc. etc."

She walked to him and handed over a glass half filled with vodka. He preferred to stay away from the spirt but he took it anyway. She tapped her glass against his and downed it in one go, then remained standing awkwardly to the side. Her heartbeat betrayed her nerves as well as her excitement. He finished his drink quickly then rose to his feet in front of her.

"No more Damon talk, alright?" He instructed in a low growl. She nodded, swallowing hard.

"Let me…get you a refill," she stammered, taking the glass from his hand and putting some distance between them.

Damon's smear campaign hadn't deterred her or she'd have turned him on his heel earlier. No, her nerves were the product of her inexperience. A fact he knew to be respectful of ever since her confession that the puppy-dog had been her one and only. Their harmless flirting had formed naturally after hours of interaction. Taking this leap would have to happen when she was ready for it.

Moving behind her, he placed a hand on her arm, guiding the empty glasses down and turning her to face him. He cupped the side of her face with his hand, his thumb grazing her cheek as her vivid green eyes reluctantly met his.

"You know we don't have to do anything other than talk. I'm not expecting anything from you, you understand?"

"I know," she answered softly, "it's just that this is not going how I thought it would."

"So… you've thought about me, alone with you, in your room?" he smirked.

She rolled her eyes, "I may have."

"You saucy devil - you've fantasized about me, haven't you?"

She smacked him playfully in the chest.

"No!"

"Well that's a yes if ever I've heard one. I can see it in your lust-filled eyes. You've been thinking about luring me here just to have your wicked way with me."

"Shut up," she laughed.

"Well go on, what kind of debauchery-riddled scenarios have you come up with?"

He could feel the heat radiating from her cheeks as confirmation. Naturally, though, she deflected.

"Okay, so what. Maybe I have had the odd fantasy here and there. But I'll bet you've done the same."

She had him there.

"Multiple times," he answered.

"Wait, really?"

"Yeah, of course," he shrugged.

"Oh!" she seemed startled by his forward reply.

He brushed a loose tendril of hair to the side of her face and asked her honestly, "Do you have any idea what form of torture our nightly pool games are as you dance around me, my eyes not once on the ball table, instead watching your every over-extension, listening to your excited squeals as you sink a ball and wondering what kinds of similar noises I could elicit from the back of your throat…"

His finger traced down her neck and she exhaled shakily. Her body moved into him instinctively, her hand resting on his chest.

"When was the first time?" she asked, her finger drawing circles along his cotton Henley, their close proximity causing a familiar heat to build inside of him.

"It was after our 'Princes Bride' argument. You made me watch that bloody thing stating its cinematic genius, and I called it rubbish. I half did it to see that fire that lights your eyes when you fight me. It's pure passion, and I couldn't help but imagine that same look as you clawed your nails down my back, your naked body laced with mine."

"Is that so?" she asked, eyeing his lips, that familiar fire in her eyes.

"It really was a crap movie, thoug- "

His teasing was interrupted by her lips on his, as she lifted herself onto her toes. He held her against him, supporting her weight with one arm, his tongue finding hers. She ran her hands through his hair, gripping and pulling, moving rhythmically with their kiss. She dropped one to his chest to tug at the material between them, and he removed his jacket, lips still on hers, before pulling away momentarily to free himself of his dark olive shirt. She pulled at his jeans and before she could notice their tongues had parted, he was stripped down to nothing more than a dark grey pair of boxer-briefs. She guided him to her bed where he was pulled from her lips by gravity as she pushed him backwards.

She started to undo the belt on her robe when she seemed to remember herself, and offered an apology.

"This," she said, tugging at the robe, "was not meant to be a part of the outfit. I got interrupted."

"Well, this is your fantasy, after all. What would you be wearing?"

A flash of excitement danced across her face.

"Close your eyes," she instructed.

He did as he was told, and he decided he would do whatever it took to transition her fantasy into reality, with some encouragement where needed.

"Okay, open your eyes."

The room was now lit with a single warm light that gave her brown skin a golden hue. She was draped in a cream-coloured satin robe that was tied at her waist. It fell to her upper thigh revealing white, lace-top stockings attached to whatever mystery was awaiting him underneath. He felt drunk with lust, wanting nothing more than to unwrap the present that stood before him. She seemed pleased with his reaction as her eyes fell to the bulge in his boxers that betrayed him.

"And that's not even the best part," she teased, as she undid the robe to reveal a simple but stunning white satin bra with matching briefs, the latter of which sat low on her hip under a delicate lace garter belt, connected to the lace atop the stockings. It gave him a complete view of her taut, golden-glowing frame which she teased him with further, turning around and dropping the robe to the floor to reveal her barely covered, perfectly shaped ass. It was a sight that would make any mere mortal salivate.

"I don't really shop for this kind of stuff, I know it's pretty basic but I didn't understand half of the things they had in the store, and – "

"And you are the most beautiful thing I think I have ever seen in all my lifetimes," he answered honestly.

She smiled and stepped towards him, as he pulled her closer, his hands gripping her hips. Leaning forward, he kissed his way across her garter belt. She dug her fingernails into his shoulders, her breath hitching as he kissed a particular spot. He lingered there, sliding his hands under the sides of both her garter belt and underwear, his teeth lightly grazing the spot she liked. He could smell her arousal, feel the heat so close to his chin. He looked up at her and asked for his next set of instructions.

"What would I do next in your fantasy?"

She looked embarrassed, so he pressed her for her answer by kissing her directly below her belly button, massaging her hips with his grip, then continuing downwards. He kissed through the lace, then the satin beneath it. She let out a small moan just before he got to where he knew she wanted him to go, and he looked back into her eyes.

"You're alone, it's late, and you're thinking about me. What would I do next?"

She seemed to be warming to their new arrangement.

"You would start to remove each item of my clothing, slowly," she paused, then added "using both your hands _and_ your teeth."

"As you wish," he replied, with a wink.

Her garter belt had a simple snap clasp, so he started with that. Undoing the clasps that connected it to the stockings, he ran his hands underneath, guiding it down with his thumbs then squeezing her ass for a moment before he continued to drag it down her thighs. As it fell to the ground, he then moved to swap places with her, standing above her as she sat on the bed. He extended her left leg, holding it firm in his hands, then bit the lace that topped her stockings, pulling it off of her in one long, slow movement. He repeated this on her other leg, lingering on her inner thigh as she twitched at the sensation. Both stockings now on the ground, she was left in only her matching bra and brief set.

Enzo pulled her to her feet, holding her as they barely touched the ground, and kissed her passionately once again, one hand supporting her limp frame, as another ran along her back and down to her hips. This kiss was no longer teasing, it was harder than the others, a kiss of deep lust that ended in a startled Bonnie pulling way when she realised her bra had been successfully unhooked.

"Well done, you," she congratulated him, and he replied with a grin.

Her feet on the ground, he let her fall gently back onto the bed, her bra in his hand. He took the moment to admire the site before him. Her small, perfectly formed breasts against her firm, lean frame illuminated by a golden glow. She was a sight to behold, resting on her elbows and watching him take in her form. He shook his head, wanting another moment to take in this picture that was all for him. She grinned and playfully nudged him back into reality with her foot.

Dropping her bra to the ground, he moved to his knee's before her, his hands either side of her hips. He ran his hands up her thighs and she shivered as she watched. He looked to her for permission, and she bit the corner of her bottom lip, nodding her encouragement. With that he grabbed hold of her hips and jerked them towards him at the edge of the bed, causing her to fall backwards with a laugh. He kissed his way down from her stomach, and over the last remaining piece of fabric on her body. His hands gripping her hips, they started to jerk as he kissed the satin directly above her clit, grazing his teeth teasingly over the small mound. She moaned, her hips trying to lift towards his mouth all the more.

"What would I do now?" he asked, as she glared down at him.

"You know exactly what I want you to do," she replied.

"Are you asking me to eat you out, Bonnie?"

"Yes," her breathy response, as her hands twisted in the bed sheets in anticipation.

"As you wish," he answered, removing the last stitch of clothing from her now naked body.

He repositioned her, tilting her hips and propping her left thigh up on his shoulder. He licked her entire length before returning to her now visible clit, which he circled softly with his tongue at first, then in short, firm flicks. Having his thumb then take over by rubbing in circular motions, he freed his tongue to concentrate on the spot just above her entrance. He placed two finger tips in the folds and began stroking up and down, returning his tongue to the sensitive ball of nerves. Her back arching, she ground her hips towards him greedily, her bodies reaction confirmation that he'd found the right areas to work. He increased his pace, then took it to the next level by sucking on her, pulling at the sensitive ball gently with his lips. She let out a guttural moan in deep pleasure, closing her thighs around his head momentarily, her enthusiasm only encouraging him. He increased his stroke again, returning his tongue back to pull and suck at her clit more feverishly than before, stopping to alternate with his fingers for a few minutes longer before she began to cry out.

"Oh god, oh GOD, oh…I'm…oh god…"

His fingers now replacing his thumb, he licked along her entire length again before sticking his tongue inside her for just a moment then returning back to the sensitive spot above it. That was enough for her, and her hips convulsed, her thighs closing around him again, as she rode out her orgasm with him firmly between her legs. He pulled her right thigh to the side, exposing her as soon as the spasms died down, and continued to rub furiously once more. Her upper body jolted foward, confusion on her face, before she fell into second orgasm in moments.

Finally recovered she collapsed back on the bed, trying to catch her breath. He leaned forward, resting his arms on her stomach as he took in his handy work between her heaving chest.

She ran her hand through his hair again, tugging him upwards, and he moved onto the tiny single bed beside her.

"Where the hell did you learn to do that?" she asked.

"I've picked up some tricks," he smirked.

She lay still, staring at the ceiling as her breathing evened out.

"Sorry I kind of crushed you, back there. I don't think I've ever…that hard…not in my life."

"I can think of worse way's to go than to be crushed to death between Bonnie Bennett's thighs," he replied.

"Oh yeah?" she answered, the back of her hand pressed against her forehead, "add death by orgasm to that list."

He laughed and then offered to get her a drink if she needed it. She rolled on top of him instead, straddling his lower abdomen. The heat radiating from the moist patch between her legs was burning him at his core, and his erection felt trapped under the confines of his boxers. She was teasing him now, payback. Grinding her hips just enough that she would occasionally touch his tip.

"You are the devil; you know that?" he said through clenched teeth, as she pretended to have no idea what he was talking about. He flipped their positions so he was above her once more, and she laughed before their lips were on one another once again. He moved his way down her neck, along her collarbone, until he met her nipple, his tongue circling it before being replaced by his hand. Freeing himself, he returned his completely naked body, his erection gliding along her thighs, and his tongue returning to meet hers. His large hand covered her breast, massaging it and pulling at the nipple.

"What would I do next?" he asked.

She glared at him again.

"I want to hear you to say it," he instructed.

She gripped him firmly at the nape of his neck and looked directly into his eyes.

"I want you to fuck me, Enzo."

His cock twitched at his name. Her direct order making him so hard it almost hurt.

"As you bloody wish," he growled, positioning himself above her as he held eye contact, slowly guiding himself inside of her. Not all the way at first, a third of the way to get a feel for her comfort, but she was already so wet that he entered fully the second time, and began a rhythm. His hips were angled so his pubic bone would rub against her clitoris between each stroke, and she reacted to sensation with a sequence of deep and melodic exhales. Minutes passed and he switched up his rhythm until she begged for him to go faster.

"As you wish," he replied, his pace increasing. He had been holding back for too long now but he wanted her to cum first so he moved upright, sitting back on his knees, and resting her hips on his thighs so he could glide against her g-spot. He adjusted his stroke until he found the angle that made her voice hit a higher note than he'd ever heard from her. "Dear…GOD!" she cried, as he used three fingers to rub eagerly at her clit. She began to tighten around him and within only a few minutes more her body flooded with visible waves of pleasure, squeezing around his cock and giving him a show before he too closed his eyes and rode out his own orgasm inside of her, saying a silent prayer of thanks that he'd been able to delay it this long.

He slipped out from inside her, collapsing at her side, and almost falling off the tiny bed frame as he did. She didn't seem to notice, her eyes fixed on the ceiling again, lost in her thoughts. She rolled over to face him, placing a hand on his cheek and kissing him deeply on the lips.

"All these nights together," she said with laboured breath, "when we could've been doing _that_ instead."

He laughed, his hand resting on her stomach as he watched her chest rise and fall, her breathing evening out.

"It was your fantasy, after all. I was merely a willing participant."

"Oh really?" she cried as he nodded his head.

"Well, I'll just have to even the playing field."

He feigned confusion, "How do you propose we do that?"

"I guess we'll have to play out one of your fantasies," she answered, casually.

He kissed her again, his hand wrapping gently around the side of her neck.

"I'm not sure you're ready for one of my fantasies, love."

"I'll be the judge of that," she replied, as her hand moved its way down his stomach.


End file.
